


You're My Saving Grace

by barricadebastard



Series: The Jeffermads Next-Door Neighbors AU [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Thomas Jefferson Is A Punk Ass Bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 01:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6449203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barricadebastard/pseuds/barricadebastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the incident, James had always seen Jefferson as the businessman with the pressed shirts, sharply trimmed facial hair and intimidatingly expensive car. </p><p>But then Jefferson starts screaming over a rat and, well, it's kind of hard to take him seriously after that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're My Saving Grace

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote this because i was too sad to write je m'appelle lafayette or someone looking pretty. basically. this series is going to be fluff. literally, that's it. THERE WILL BE NO ANGST. because, ya know, i'm writing this so that i can /avoid/ angst so yeah. no. 
> 
> title from beyonce's halo. i'm thinking of using that song for /all/ the titles in this series. who knows.

To say that Madison was friends with Jefferson was a major stretch. Perhaps ‘acquaintances’ suit their relationship better.

They rarely spoke, though occasionally they would exchange polite nods when they were leaving their houses at the same time. Being next door neighbors meant that they saw each other far too often and Jefferson had a habit of throwing out the rubbish whilst wearing nothing but sweatpants.

James had choked on his coffee too often after seeing the finely sculpted torso of the other man and the peek of his sharp hipbones.

Jefferson was attractive and James was willing to admit it. His ‘fro always looked perfect, his facial hair was always trimmed sharply and he had a body to die for. But he also seemed aloof and James wasn’t going to strike up a conversation with someone who looked so self-satisfied and pompous.

So they nodded when they saw each other and never stopped for conversation.

Perhaps that would have been how their relationship remained if it hadn’t been for one incident.

At the time, James had been sitting on the couch, lazily flicking through a book he had been meaning to read for months. It was interesting enough but James found his mind wandering, his eyes straying from the page to flicker across the room.

That’s when he heard the scream.

High-pitched and shiver-inducing, it was the most terrifying noise James had ever had the misfortune of hearing. He jumped off the couch, his book flying halfway across the room as he stood, stock still, waiting but not sure what he was waiting _for_.

The silence that followed was the quietest James had ever heard. His hands were shaking as his mind ran through every possible explanation for such a noise, each scenario worse than the last. Perhaps there was a burglar, perhaps someone had found a dead body, maybe an infamous serial killer had-

That was Jefferson’s house.

The realisation hit James like a ton of bricks. The scream didn’t sound like Jefferson, too high-pitched. James was pretty sure that Jefferson lived alone, but perhaps he had his girlfriend over?

The scream resounded again and James was out of the house like a shot. Picking up a baseball bat he kept near the door for emergencies, he followed the ear piercing noise and jumped over the small fence separating the two houses. Upon finding the door unlocked, he flung it open to a sight he never thought he'd see.

Jefferson was standing on a leather couch, breathing heavily as he looked down at the carpet beneath him. His normally stoic, put-together facade was broken by a frazzled expression as he clutched a cushion to his chest, wide eyes watching the ground.

If someone told James he was dreaming, he would probably believe them without a question.

“Are you… okay?” James asked hesitantly, glancing back at the door. Perhaps he should leave. It didn’t look like the other man was in any immediate danger.

“There’s a rat,” Jefferson shrieked and James stepped back at the sheer pitch of his voice. “Where the fuck is i-”

No sooner had the words left his mouth when a grey object whizzed between James’ feet. He turned around, alarmed, to see a rat scurrying across the street. Jefferson shrieked again, managing to sound even more panicked as the two of them watched the rat get run over as soon as it crossed the road.

“Oh my god,” Jefferson said weakly. James looked back at him; he was wearing a crumpled work shirt and his curls were pulled back into a loose bun. He was still clutching the pillow like a lifeline. “Oh my god, oh my god. There was a _rat_ . Did you see that? There was a _rat_ in my _house_ , oh my god, and tomorrow, I’m going to have to drive my car over rat remains on the road, _oh my go-_ ”

“Are you okay?” James repeated slowly. Jefferson collapsed on the couch, whimpering quietly and looking vaguely brain fried.

“No,” Jefferson said quietly. “No, I’m not okay. How can I be okay when there was _a fucking rat in my house_.”

“No need to swear,” James mumbled, beginning to back out of the house. It was strange, seeing Jefferson in his own home, acting as unJefferson as possible. Or maybe this was the _real_ Jefferson, and the cool, calm businessman James often saw was a mask. Who knew? And James definitely wasn’t sticking around to find out.

James had been planning to leave. He _had_. Standing in a stranger’s expensively-decorated living room whilst they completely ignored him wasn’t high on his list of things he was comfortable with. But seeing Jefferson hug himself and mutter under his breath about ‘rats’, ‘exterminators’ and ‘buy a new house’, he felt somewhat sorry for the other man.

“Shall I make you some tea?” James asked cautiously, dropping the bat on the floor. Jefferson shook his head.

“All out of teabags,” the other man said before adding a sour, “And who knows if that rat had been sniffing through my cupboards, now I have to throw everything out, I need to buy a new kitchen, I need to buy new furniture, _oh my god_ -”

The furniture looked unnecessarily expensive and James couldn’t trust Jefferson not to throw it all away because of a single rodent. That was the excuse that James repeated to himself as he hurried back to his own home. Rifling through the cabinets, he finally found what he was looking for: a pack of chamomile teabags.

When he returned to Jefferson’s house, the other man was still sitting in the same position, arms wrapped around himself as he mouthed incredulously to himself. James wasn’t sure that he noticed James leave, let alone his return.

“I’ve got some tea,” James announced. Jefferson’s head snapped up, watching James with an uncannily piercing gaze as James strode across the living with false confidence and entered the kitchen. Jefferson hesitated for a moment before unfolding himself on the couch and followed him.

“I don’t need tea,” Jefferson argued. The way his voice wobbled said otherwise and James was already beginning to open the packet. “I need pest control.”

“How about both?” James offered as he began to look around the kitchen. It was far fancier than James’ own, with a collection of expensive-looking but probably useless appliances… none of which included a kettle. “Um, where’s your kettle?”

“Kettle,” Jefferson repeated disbelievingly. “Who even owns a kettle in this day and age? Don’t tell me you have a _kettle_.”

James blinked. “What, you boil water on a stove?”  

The horrified look Jefferson sent him after those words slipped out of his mouth made him want to laugh, but he quelled the urge as Jefferson stomped over to the tap, jabbing at it aggressively with a finger.

“It’s called an instant hot water tap,” Jefferson said with a distinct tone of pride, as though introducing an oldest child who had just been accepted into an Ivy League school.

“Nice,” James said uncertainly as Jefferson flipped a switch and proceeded to thrust a mug underneath it. Boiling water began to pour into two mugs, creating a billow of swirling steam. Jefferson returned the mug with an excited grin.

“So?” he said expectantly, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, rodent issues all but forgotten.

Jefferson was, James decided, rather like a child. Dramatic about the smallest issues, spoilt, easily distracted and apparently easily excited. It was strange, that James found these qualities (all of whom he would have noted with disdain on any other person) _endearing_.

“It’s cool,” James said placatingly and, when he saw the satisfied grin that spread across Jefferson’s lips, realised that the other man had no idea that he had been aiming for ‘patronising’ instead of ‘sincere’. Oh well.

He dropped a tea bag into the mug, taking the small spoon Jefferson offered him and stirring slowly. “Just a normal teaspoon? No fancy inventions for this?” James teased lightly, smiling when Jefferson crossed his arms and huffed playfully.

“I could probably find something,” Jefferson said seriously, raising a sharp eyebrow.

In this moment, Jefferson was well and truly _beautiful_. As much as James loved seeing his curls bounce unrestrainedly, pulling his hair back brought out the sharpness of his jawline and the definition of his cheekbones. There was something about seeing the man in his own home, barefooted and his work shirt crumpled, that tugged at James’ heart. It was disgustingly domestic, _endearing_ , and James should really go back home before he started catching feelings.

Though it was probably too late.

And so that was how James ended up sitting in the kitchen of Thomas Jefferson, sipping tea and exchanging book recommendations. It was difficult to look at this man and think of him as the cold, detached businessman James had thought he was, especially after Thomas admitted, cheeks dark with embarrassment, that he still cried through Lion King.

The next day, there was a box of lemon and ginger teabags on his doorstep, with a note that outlined all the arguments for lemon and ginger tea rather than chamomile tea.

Maybe, if it was anyone else, James would have raised an eyebrow at the audacity and thrown it away. Instead, he stored it away safely for later use.

And that was how Businessman™ Thomas Jefferson, with his coolly blank expressions and pressed suits, became Thomas, the man who got excited by hot water taps, the man who talked about John Locke like the man had given birth to him, the man who watched Disney movies and cried.

To this day, James is glad for that one rodent. 

**Author's Note:**

> next fic in this series, jefferson is gonna burn the simplest of foods: sponge cake. so. look forward to that?
> 
> [lafayettes-baguette](http://www.lafayettes-baguette.tumblr.com) is my tumblr side blog (main blog is [ask-agender-georges-lafayette](http://www.ask-agender-georges-lafayette.tumblr.com) soooooo if you wanna follow that too, I'm down)


End file.
